


Outclassed

by Cherry



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry/pseuds/Cherry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trig - the "Before Crisis" Turk Two-Guns - works for Don Corneo. When he meets Reno and Tseng, he begins to wonder whether it's time to move on. </p>
<p>A story about Shinra, and how Trig came to be a Turk. No pairings - but plenty of gangsters, life in the slums, big bugs and Reno.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outclassed

Scotch sniggered. "Yeah – so like, Tony was all, 'you gotta give me one more week, man! I'll get the money!' And the boss is: 'I want to, Tony, I want to. You know I like you, kid. You _know_ that. But you owe me three thousand gil.' You know that way he has of sounding all sorry – like it's cutting him up to insist?"

"Uh huh." Trig lined up a pung of red dragons, only half listening. He knew how the story would end – Tony Riley was Cesar Barone's nephew, and Corneo had no intention of seriously pissing off Don Barone after the incident with the stolen materia.

"What he do?" Kotch asked, his expression more anxious than gleeful. "I bet Tony was pissing himself wasn't he?"

Trig doubted that. Tony was a pain in the ass – always had been – had none of his uncle's class; but the kid wasn't a complete fool. He knew exactly how far out of line he could slide before he screwed up enough that his connections couldn't save him. Three thousand gil was nowhere near.

Scotch sneered, taking a tile from the wall, and discarding it immediately. "Three of circles. Nah, Kotch, Tony ain't a pussy like you. Anyway, he's Barone's kin. His nephew. He knew the boss wasn't really gonna hurt him."

"But the boss pulled some real nasty shit on Danny Chan, when he owed a few thou'," Kotch insisted. "They said he'd never walk again – 'cept he did. Took a couple years though."

"That's different," Scotch said.

"Why? Danny's his _own_ nephew, ain't he?"

Scotch hesitated. "Just – different," he said. "Ain't it, Trig?"

"Yeah, it's different."

"Why?" Kotch never even pretended to understand the shifts and flows of power between the various organized gangs under the plate. Scotch _did_ pretend to, but Trig knew he was full of shit. He waited for Scotch to elaborate.

"Ah – I can't be bothered," Scotch hedged, fidgeting with his shades. "You tell him, if you got time. Thought we was playin' a game here?"

Trig smiled faintly, letting Scotch know that he saw right through his flimsy façade, but didn't push it. "I won't have time to finish this anyhow. I'm expecting a call. Let's quit." The other two made no objection, Kotch pushing his tiles into the centre of the table, before lighting a cigarette. Much of their time working for the don was spent in this smoky room in the mansion, playing cards or mahjong, or watching the ancient TV set in the corner, awaiting orders. Trig turned to Kotch, who was still looking at him expectantly.

"Danny owed the boss money from before he married Mei-Ling," Trig explained. "But after the wedding no one would give either of them work. Danny did some minor stuff running drugs for Genji Taro, but the war meant supplies dried up, and ShinRa controls all the Mako shit too tight for anyone to get in on any of that. Danny just ran out of gil. Sure the boss wanted his money, just like with Tony. But it was more than that. See, Danny's the Don's nephew by his brother, meaning he had the Corneo name. When Danny married Mei-Ling, the boss saw it as a betrayal."

"Yeah – 'cause she's a Wute," Scotch put in.

Trig gave him a contemptuous glance. "No – because she's Chan Wei's half sister. And although Chan threw her out in the first place, the boss didn't want any kinship with that family. I expect Chan was no happier about her becoming a Corneo, but he'd already disowned her. The boss told Danny he was unfit to bear the name Corneo, an' that's why everyone calls him Danny Chan now. And that pisses Chan right off, too, which the boss isn't too happy about."

"So – why'd the boss give Mei-Ling a job in the first place?" Kotch wondered.

"Because he liked the idea of having one of Chan's relatives as a Honeybee, working for him. He loved it that Chan couldn't do a thing about it, because he'd publically washed his hands of her. But having her as an employee - that's not the same as having her as a family member!"

"I don't get why Chan didn't just have the bitch killed," Scotch said. "If my sister went waltzing off to be a whore at the Lotus Inn, I'd kill her myself."

Trig shook his head. "If he did that everyone would know he'd ordered the hit. He disowned her in public. You know, the whole Wutai 'you are less than the dead to me; ghosts have more substance' routine. That's why she has that black dot tattooed on her forehead – the one she usually sticks a jewel over. If Chan ordered her killed, that would mean he acknowledged her existence. The boss beat up Danny so bad because he didn't only marry a Chan – he married one who wasn't even good enough for _them_. He saw it as an insult to the Corneo name. The money just gave him the excuse."

"Fuck," said Kotch quietly, "Danny must really love her."

Scotch laughed. " _Danny must really love her_! Get a fucking grip, man."

Kotch ignored him. "What happened to them, after?"

Trig shrugged. "Last I heard they were scraping a living in Seven selling hot food and fortune cookies from a van."

"Ha!" exclaimed Scotch. "What kind of a life is that? She should go plate-side. Girl like her could clean up, up there."

"They don't let Wutaians work on the plate do they?" Kotch asked. "I thought there was an internment order when the war started, an' there was all that fuss 'cause they didn't lift it when the war ended, just shipped all the detainees back to Wutai."

"There's a Wute working for ShinRa though," Scotch said. "I seen him a couple of times, with Veld – you know, the Turks' boss. But I reckon he's the only Wute on the plate now, and if I were Shinra I wouldn't trust him either. No – I guess you're right. Danny and Mei-Ling are stuck underside for good."

"Maybe they're happy though?" Kotch said.

"Maybe," Trig replied, trying to keep too much cynicism out of his tone. "Whatever _that_ means." He liked Kotch, for all that they guy wasn't exactly the most deadly weapon in Corneo's arsenal. Scotch's bluster and bullshit irritated him.

 _Can't stick this job forever,_ Trig thought, not for the first time. Recently he'd been finding all the gang in-fighting and politics more boring than anything else. He was only twenty-four, and already he felt old.

"So," Kotch asked, recalling the start of the conversation, "What _did_ the boss do to Tony?"

"Gave him a final warning, upped the interest by fifty percent, and literally kicked him out onto the street," Scotch chuckled. "Went flying into a bunch of trash cans, and one of 'em overturned all over that nice new suit he bought with the Don's money – the one with real silver in the weave."

"Better than two broken kneecaps," Kotch said. "Still can't believe the boss was that pissed with Danny. Seems so easy-going most of the time."

"Don't underestimate the boss," Trig told him, more in warning than with any kind of admiration. "You get on his bad side and he'll remember it. And there's a reason ShinRa decided to go with the boss rather than with Chan or one of the others – _besides_ the discount at the Honeybee."

"Yeah," Scotch nodded, assuming a sage expression. "They know who's in charge down here."

"They _choose_ who's in charge down here," Trig said. "They picked the boss because he's the best organized. Chan's too volatile, Barone's too ambitious, Genji's... Well, let's just say he's never been good at keeping his nose out of other people's business. As for Malikov round in Three, and the Vicario twins – too much infighting. Can't keep their own turf weed-free – what would ShinRa want with them? In fact, I heard we might have some work in that line in a couple days."

"What line?" Kotch asked.

"The gardening line," Trig told him. "Little – transplanting. Word is, ShinRa wants Genji - uprooted."

"We gotta kill Genji?" Scotch asked, his voice girlishly high with astonishment, until he remembered himself, adding in a consciously deep tone, "Why? What did _he_ do?"

"Not kill," Trig replied. "ShinRa's looking to move him out of Midgar is all. Long as he agrees to go without a fuss there doesn't have to be any killing. But let's wait and see what our orders are, huh?"

"But where's he gonna go?" Kotch asked.

"I reckon ShinRa wants him back over Wutai way. Somewhere right on the West of the Western Continent. Fyris maybe, or Utgar."

"Utgar?" Scotch sneered. "Back of beyond…"

"Near Wutai. They want a gateway, now the war's over. Could be an opportunity for Genji. He's squeezed in Midgar and he knows it. Ask me, it's Don Barone should be worried. The Boss is wary for now – but it'll come to a showdown eventually. This town, as they say, ain't big enough…"

"And then Tony'll be in trouble!" said Scotch with satisfaction.

"If Tony has any sense, he'll be long gone," Trig replied, with a little, grim smile. "But then, Tony never did have any sense."

Trig's phone rang. He glanced at the screen, snagged his jacket from the back of one of the low chairs and headed for the door. "Gotta go."

When he'd gone Kotch looked after him, his expression wistful. "Wish I got things like Trig," he sighed. "He always seems to know what's going on. Suppose that was the boss…"

"Yeah. Boss likes Trig. Not fair. How long have we been working for him? I been here twenty years and that one keeps on getting promoted. He's sneaky."

"No he ain't. He's just good. You ever seen him use those guns? He can hit anything – either hand or both together. And he got the smarts. I reckon the Don sees him like he wishes Danny was. Kinda – like a son."

"Yeah," said Scotch thoughtfully. "He's well-placed. He _says_ he ain't interested in politics, but I wonder."

Kotch looked into the bottom of his empty beer bottle. "I wonder if there'll be any nice girls tonight?"

"There are always girls. You just can't handle 'em. You should watch me – be more assertive."

"I don't know what to say to them. Trig – he don't say much, but they seem to like him."

"What is this – the Trig fan club? Forget about him. You watch what I do – then you can't go wrong."

"That new Honeybee gave you a black eye last week," Kotch pointed out.

"Ugly bitch anyway," Scotch said. "I must've been off my head. I can't even remember how much I drank."

"Oh no, you only had two beers," Kotch began. "I remember because –" He broke off abruptly, the look on Scotch's face persuading him that a worse memory might be a safer option. "Or maybe that was a different night," he finished lamely.

"That was a different night," Scotch agreed, ruffled feathers settling. "You watch what I do. Trig ain't got nothin' on me when it comes to getting the girls."

Kotch knew better than to argue.

x

The ShinRa Turk who looked like he hadn't forgotten the meaning of style in spite of having to wear that boring company uniform, looked at Trig and smiled in a way that might have been friendly if it hadn't been for the challenge in his eyes. "So – you run this route in under ten minutes?" he asked, peering through into the dim, litter-strewn passageway that ran behind the Honeybee Inn.

"There's a big nest of kimara bugs somewhere in the sewers down there, and a bunch of sahagin," Trig replied, his own expression as disdainful as he could make it. "And yeah, I run it in under ten. You think you could match that?"

"Think I could beat it," the Turk said. His superior – Tseng – the Wutaian Scotch had mentioned – looked faintly amused. "Perhaps you should put that to the test, Reno," he said.

Don Corneo laughed. "A challenge! What'd'ya think, Tseng? Your boy against mine?"

"I'll bet two hundred Gil on Reno to win," said Tseng calmly.

"Make it three and you're on," Corneo smiled. "Trig's the fastest there is."

"Did you hear that, Reno?" Tseng asked. "Don Corneo hasn't heard your reputation for speed, it seems. You'd better rectify that situation – for the honour of the Turks."

"Okay." Reno ran his left hand through wild, improbably red hair, and then flicked his wrist as he brought his arm down. A telescopic nightstick appeared in his hand. Trig looked at it and almost laughed. "You're going to fight with _that_? Do you know how many monsters we're gonna face?"

"It has its advantages. 'Sides I do _have_ a gun. And I got materia on top. You?"

"These babies," Trig said, with understandable pride, drawing the beautiful matched pistols from their holsters. "They got a slot each, too."

"Nice," Reno commented. "I'm not much for guns when I don't need to use 'em, but those are fine-lookin' pieces. Shall we?"

"Sure. Say the word."

"Go!" Reno was moving before Trig's brain even registered the word. _Damn_ , Trig thought, as the Turk reached the entrance to the alley first, _he's_ _fast_!

Trig had the advantage of knowing the twisting paths and junk-strewn passages on the route they called "the run" – the usual means of initiation into any of the local gangs. He'd been fighting monsters here since he was a skinny kid. His first monster kill – a watery ghost-like creature whose species he'd never discovered – had been two days after he'd attempted to help a dying man who had died anyway, but not before bequeathing him the two most beautiful weapons he'd ever seen. His first human kill – well, that had been a few seconds after the guns were in his hands – a man who would have killed him to take them.

This Turk though – he seemed to know these alleys well. Trig levelled the guns, one aimed ahead of him, one off to the right, and dispatched a couple of the inevitable kimara bugs that squeaked and hissed at his approach. The familiar stench filled his nostrils – gah – the creatures stank of the shit they nested in. Reno grinned back at him. "Good shooting! But this is a race, right?" Then he was off, leaping over debris, scaling a wall in seconds. A green-skinned sahagin materialised dead ahead, and the Turk brought that pathetic looking nightstick down on it as he ran past. There was a violent electric crackle, and the creature dissipated. Huh. This was going to be harder than Trig had expected, he realised with a tingle of anticipation. It had been a long time since he'd faced a real challenge in his work – let alone someone who might actually beat him.

"Ah _fuck_!" The Turk yelled, even as Trig registered the gunshot. Catching up with him, Trig found himself dragged down behind the rusting shell of what must once have been a van, the Turk's right hand around his throat, that nightstick suddenly seeming very dangerous after all, held this close to his head, humming with electricity. There was blood on Reno's sleeve. Trig kept his grip on both guns, but made no attempt to threaten the Turk. The last thing the boss would want was trouble with ShinRa.

"What the fuck?" The Turk hissed. "Is this a trap?"

"Nothing to do with me," Trig wheezed. "Shouldn't be anyone here." Reno looked at Trig, and evidently believed him. He released his surprisingly strong grip on Trig's throat.

"Are you hit?" Trig asked, massaging his sore neck.

"It's nothing. But someone took a fuckin' shot at me. From that side alley. Wanna take a rain check on that race, and do some investigating?"

"Okay."

From the dubious cover of the van carcass, Trig and Reno peered across at the dark entrance to a narrow alley.

"Dead end, right?" Reno said. "With a loose drain cover, and a ladder down into the sewers."

"Yeah! How did –"

"Grew up in Five," Reno said. "Used to come here a lot. Stealin' stuff from your boss, mainly."

"Right. I grew up here, in Six."

"Yeah," Reno nodded. "Thought so. Remember hearing about some punk with two guns. 'By the time you see his guns, you're already dead'. That you?"

"I guess."

"Okay. Good to have a reputation. Rufus Shinra never cries or bleeds – you ever hear that one?"

"Huh – yeah. Is it true?"

Reno just looked at him, and grinned. "What do you think? C'mon. You take the left. I'll send a bolt down there first – the light'll give us a clue."

Trig kept his fingers on both triggers, as he skirted the van and edged along the wall to the entrance of the alley. Reno slipped into the shadows on the other side. There was a lightning flash, and they both peered into the illuminated passage.

"Thought so," said Reno. "Gone to ground. You on for a hunt?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't be anyone taking pot-shots at people in Six without the Don's say-so. You don't think it's those new terrorists? Avalanche?"

"Could be. That's what I want to find out." He gave Trig's beautifully cut suit a doubtful once-over. "Kimara nests and sewer water. You're gonna have a hell of a time getting' that clean."

"Yeah well, Company Boy," Trig shot back – "I can afford a new one. What's with those uniforms anyway? Those zippers?"

"Hey!" warned Reno. "Don't disrespect –" He broke off, holding up a warning hand. "Shh. Listen." He crouched down by the drain cover. From far below ground came the sound of someone shouting, and then more reasonable conversation. Amplified by the tubular shape of the drain, the words rose clearly to the surface.

"I thought he'd seen me! Shit!"

"I _said_ no shooting. Not until we're inside the fucking mansion! Were you followed?"

"No. Think I winged the fucker."

"Okay. Who was it?"

"One of Corneo's men. Who else would be in the run?"

"Yeah well. He'll be looking for a new boss, come morning." There was the sound of laughter, and another voice, the words, indistinguishable, moving away.

Reno looked up at Trig. "Not Avalanche," he said.

"No. Plot against the boss."

"Right. Shall we?"

"Yeah."

Reno drew a knife - Trig didn't see where he pulled it from – and scratched a symbol onto a flattish cobble near the drain cover. "So Tseng knows where we've gone."

Trig lifted the heavy iron cover, and set it aside silently. A rusting ladder led down into darkness. Reno went first, climbing swiftly. Trig followed. When they reached the bottom Reno paused, listening, and then took a flashlight from his pocket and switched it on. Narrow pathways led off in two directions, running alongside the main sewer. The murky water flowed sluggishly. Reno made a face. "Forgotten how it stinks down here," he whispered. "If we meet any monsters, don't shoot."

"Course not – I'm not an idiot. But even that electro rod of yours won't kill the big kimaras. I have water materia. You dispose of the smaller ones, and I'll blast the mommas."

"Sounds like a plan. Water, huh? Never use that. Just – keep it away from the rod, yeah? Now…" Reno knelt and examined the damp flagstones in the light of his torch. He scratched another symbol, with an arrow above it. "Good thing there's so much mud up in the slums. Clear enough tracks. This way."

Less than two hundred yards into the sewer, a group of three kimara bugs attacked them, scuttling out of an open maintenance hatch. Reno took all three with a couple of blasts from his EMR, but he swore softly as he read the energy level indicator. "Shit. Even the small ones take a full charge to finish off, and I don't like using this where the air's so damp. We'd better get a move on." He suppressed a cough, and almost retched as the stench of the fried bugs hit. "Why'd they have to smell so fuckin' bad?"

"You should try destroying a nest," Trig said. "They build them out of whatever organic material they can. Which, in the sewers, means they're basically just big piles of –"

"Yeah, I've had that pleasure, in the plate sewers. Never showered for so long. Thought I was gonna blow a reactor just heating the water!"

They walked for ten minutes or so in silence, listening to the gurgling of water in the sewer, and the occasional hissing of distant bugs. Three times the sewer branched, and twice they had to wade knee deep across a channel, but the trail was clear enough for Reno to follow. They reached a section of the sewers lit by green mako lamps at regular intervals. "They've been here and turned the lights on," Reno whispered, switching off his flashlight and slipping it into his pocket. He paused outside an iron hatch set into the wall. Soft voices came from behind it.

" – when Genji's gone," someone said.

"Yeah. Before Corneo has it all sewn up with ShinRa. Tony – you got the map?"

"Yeah. There's a way through into his dungeon – the sick old perv. He don't have more'n three or four guards on duty most nights, and only two of them are any good. But the girls will see to them, anyhow. They'll all be dead to the world."

"Tony Riley," Trig whispered. "Don Barone's nephew."

"I get the Honeybee, after," Tony bragged. "All them honeys…" There was a lot of laughter.

"Too many," Reno said softly. "We should head back and report."

"But –"

"What? You wanna take on seven – eight – armed men in a confined space when you don't need to? You fuckin' crazy?"

Trig considered. By rights he should be demanding to protect Corneo's honour – but it had been at least a couple of years since he'd stopped believing that bullshit. "Yeah," he nodded. "You're right. Let's go."

They'd retreated less than fifty yards when the mother of all Kimaras emerged from the water of the main sewer, followed by a dozen smaller, more pallid versions, swarming up onto the walkway on either side of them.

"Shit," swore Reno softly. "Never knew they could swim."

"Me neither," Trig said, turning back to back with Reno, the materia in his guns starting to glow. "We ain't gonna be able to keep this quiet."

"Nope," agreed Reno, laying about him with the rod. "You'd better deal with Mom fast – we're gonna need your guns I reckon."

Trig cast Watara at the huge insect in the sewer. Spectacular plumes of water fountained around it as the force of the spell hit, but the kimara kept coming.

"Didn't even slow it down! Fuck – must be a different type, or something!"

"And we got company," Reno warned him, pulling a gun from inside his jacket. Trig looked beyond Reno and saw two Wutaian men in grey suits emerging from the hatch, followed by Tony Riley. Tony shouted, "That's Corneo's man! Kill them!" One of the Wutaians fell back into the sewer without a sound, Reno's bullet in his head, but the other started firing. Trig emptied an entire clip trying to kill the mother kimara bug with his left hand, targeting the men lining up in front of Tony with his right. He recognised them as a mix of Chan and Barone's guards. He felled the second Wutaian, and two of Barone's men who took his place, his aim always perfect. "If we can," Trig shouted to Reno, who was smashing at kimara bugs with his rod while trying to aim his gun at the men approaching along the walkway, "we should take Tony alive. The one in the fuckin' criminal silver suit."

"Yeah – I'll try," Reno said, cursing as a bullet zinged above his left ear. "Shit!" He cast a spell at Tony, who was suddenly encased in a softly glowing golden pyramid of light.

"Try not to hit it, or it'll break," he called to Trig. "Watch the bug! Don't let it –"

"Ah holy mother of _fuck_!" yelled Trig as the huge insect sank her mandibles into his left arm.

Reno aimed his gun at the bug, but, as Trig's had done, the bullets ricocheted off her shining, rock-hard carapace. Chan and Barone's men were impeded by the pyramid surrounding Tony, which blocked the walkway. They attempted to shoot around it, but couldn't get a clear aim. None of them wanted to take the remaining route into the flowing sewer. "Get down there!" a voice cried from behind them. "Get them!" Reluctantly two of Don Barone's men stepped down into the filthy effluent.

Kicking two of the smaller bugs back into the water, Reno grabbed Trig's arm and dragged it upwards, the mother insect still clinging on. Trig had turned very pale. "What're you doing man?" he asked, his speech slurring slightly.

Reno grunted with the effort of lifting the kimara's weight. As the front half of the insect was pulled out of the water, Reno shot point blank into its abdomen. The kimara emitted a hideous, piercing whistle, and released Trig, falling back into the sewer. The remaining bugs followed her, and the whole group of them swam frantically in the direction of Barone's men, who began shooting at them in futile desperation. Reno turned to Trig, ignoring the screams as the men in the water were attacked by the panicked bugs. "You okay? You're not okay. Shit."

Trig was on his knees on the walkway, his face bloodless. "Feel like crap," he panted. "Think – poison…"

"Hold on. I'll get you back to Tseng. He has Esuna."

"No," said Trig. "Get the rest of them."

"Right. But hold on, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Reno sprinted towards the remaining men, one glance at the reddish water in the sewer telling him that he didn't have to worry about an attack from that direction. The bugs, having efficiently removed the obstacle posed by the two guards, had swum away upstream with their injured mother. Reno peered through the translucent pyramid containing Tony's frozen form. There were two targets left – one each of Chan and Barone's men by the look of it.

"You can surrender now," Reno told them, "Or you can end up like your friend here."

"Fuck you," came the reply. Reno cast pyramid again, and the Wutaian man was trapped. Barone's guy attempted to run. Reno hopped down into the sewer and up again on the other side of the two pyramids, chased him down, tackled him to the ground and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his gun. When he checked, he found that the man was out of ammo. Leaving Tony and Chan's man in their golden prisons for the time being, Reno headed back to Trig, who was breathing in shallow gasps.

"Shit," Reno murmured. "Not good." Whatever the insect's venom had been, it was stronger than most monster poisons. "Yeah," said Trig, dazed. "That's right. All those green lights. So fucking _beautiful_ …"

"What? Oh great. Don't tell me it's a fucking hallucinogen too. Perfect."

"Reno?"

Reno looked back the way they'd come and saw Tseng approaching along the tunnel, immaculate as though he was out on a pleasant stroll around Sector Eight.

"Need Esuna, Boss," Reno said, by way of greeting. "Good timing, as per."

"I do my best," replied Tseng, casting the spell over Trig while taking in the scene further along the sewer. "You seemed to be taking rather a long time. It appears you've been busy."

"Couple of conspirators, couple of bugs," Reno said, smiling, as Trig sat up with a groan. "You know how it is, Boss."

Tseng took charge of the three prisoners, releasing the two inside the pyramids, breaking the spell with hard kicks that somehow managed to follow through into actual contact.

Tony was furious, shouting every obscene name he could think of as Tseng cuffed him, but, as he helped Trig to his feet, Reno noticed that the Wutaian – Chan's man – stared straight ahead and obeyed Tseng's terse instruction to walk without a word. Tseng slapped the unconscious member of Don Barone's crew back into consciousness, and when the man started to protest merely said, "You can get walking, or we can leave your carcass here for the bugs."

Emerging from the sewers, the twilight of the slums seemed a welcome brightness. As soon as he could get a signal, Tseng phoned for the chopper. Don Corneo was waiting by the entrance to the Honeybee, Scotch and Kotch flanking him.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, looking at the three prisoners, Trig's torn and filthy suit, the blood on Reno's jacket. He peered at the prisoners, and his expression hardened from confusion to something altogether more dangerous. Trig knew that look. For all the boss's soft speech and smiling demeanour, he was a violent man, once crossed.

"I'd know that suit anywhere," Corneo said slowly, "since I paid for it! Tony? Tony – what is this?"

Tony glared at him. "ShinRa sure got you where they want you," he sneered. "One day someone's gonna knock you off your tacky gilded throne."

"Says the guy in the tinfoil suit," Reno scoffed.

Trig laughed.

"What is this?" Corneo asked, looking from Tony to the other prisoners. "Chan was in on this, too? What the fuck?"

"Plot against you, Boss," Trig said. "Sounded like they were planning on raiding the mansion – through the dungeon. Something about girls, too. Sounded like they were planning to drug the guards on duty."

"Huh, stupid plan," Scotch said. "Like I'd fall for some bitch trying to spike my drink!"

Kotch remained silent, thinking that he probably _would_ have fallen for it. But then, so would Scotch.

"Hoo, dear, dear," sighed Corneo. "Didn't think your uncle was _that_ stupid, Tony."

"I doubt that Don Barone was involved at all. Or Chan, for that matter," Tseng put in, quickly. "This plot is amateurish - all the hallmarks of a young, impetuous man, with ambition, but little patience or sense. We'll find out how deep this runs, back at HQ."

Corneo's eyes narrowed. "My turf," he said. "A plot against me. Is this ShinRa business?"

"They shot at me, first," Reno said, holding out his arm as evidence. "Makes it ShinRa business."

Tony paled. "That wasn't – we didn't know who you were…"

Tseng smiled. "It doesn't make much difference, either way," he said. "But a chopper's already on its way to pick us up. ShinRa would be happy to spare you the inconvenience…" he glanced towards the lurid neon façade of the Honeybee Inn. "You're a busy man, after all. On ShinRa's behalf, I'll accept any consequences, if Barone or Chan are unhappy with our findings."

Don Corneo spent a minute considering, for the sake of form. Trig looked from his florid, over-dressed boss, assuming parity with ShinRa that everyone knew was sham, to Tseng's elegant, sharp lines and appearance of absolute confidence. Tseng's tattoo – that neat circle between his eyes - marked him as a 'ghost', as surely as Mei-Ling's did. That was why Chan's man had refused to speak in his presence. And yet, Tseng made no attempt to cover it up, as Mei-Ling did, with her fake jewels. Tseng had no need to hide anything. That was a kind of power beyond the aspirations of Corneo, Barone, Chan.

Trig glanced at his own boss' vulgar heart tattoo, and felt ashamed.

"Well, well," Corneo conceded at last, moving to pat Tseng on the back, and then thinking better of it. "I dare say it's best like this. Saves me a job, anyhow. But I want a full report. And the names of all the girls involved."

"You'll receive all the necessary information," Tseng said.

"Good. Hoo – what a day! But I haven't forgotten that bet, Tseng. I'm still backing Trig over your boy. Next time, we'll see."

Tony started to say something, but Tseng interrupted him. "Save it. I'll tell you when it's time to talk."

As they waited for the chopper, Reno asked Trig quietly, "You okay now?"

"Fine. That's some useful materia."

"Only the best, at ShinRa. You call me a company boy, but the company rules the fuckin' world, man. Not like down here." He glanced towards the prisoners, and pointedly, at Corneo. "Down here, it's all - bugs fightin' over their piles of shit."

Trig gave him a cynical look. "Yeah. And ShinRa? Bigger bugs – more shit?"

Reno laughed. "Yeah – well, you got that right. But classier shit, man. Mako shit. A whole new level. You're pretty handy with those guns, but you outclass the fuckers down here. This ain't no test anymore, right? I ain't making any promises, but, you ever feel like movin' on – call me."

"Seriously?" Trig did his best to sound dismissive, but he felt something – a sense of possibilities and a future he hadn't considered before. "You can see _me_ – in _that_ suit?"

"Ah – respect the suit, man. I don't wanna have to kill ya – not when we're getting' along so well," Reno grinned. "Anyway – it's all about how you wear it, yeah?"

Trig looked from Reno to Tseng, and nodded, thoughtfully.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I guess it is. I'll – think about it."

When the helicopter arrived, sliding in under the plate, Trig watched as Reno loaded the prisoners, and Tseng had a final word with Don Corneo. Reno waved at Trig, before the chopper lifted off.

"Oh boy," Corneo said, turning towards the Honeybee. "What a world we live in! Well, boys, I have a little business to take care of," he gave a leering grin, "name of Lola. You three wait for me out here."

"Yes, Boss," replied Kotch and Scotch with alacrity. Trig nodded.

Once their boss was out of sight, Scotch said, "So – those ShinRa Turks. Not so tough, huh? Reckon I could take 'em."

Trig smiled.

"What happened, hey, Trig?" Scotch asked, excited. "Did you kill anyone? Were they really plotting against the Boss?"

"Not here," said Trig, nodding towards the busy street.

"Oh, right, yeah. Sorry."

Trig sighed. Reno and Tseng did somehow manage to make that uniform look good…

Perhaps he could live with the suit.

x

In the hold of the chopper on the way back to the ShinRa tower, Tony was all fake bravado. "You know who my uncle is? You'd better take care of me."

"Your uncle had no idea of your involvement in this attempted coup, though, did he?" Tseng asked. "In fact, he knew nothing about it at all. This plot was hatched by you, a few of your friends, and some of Chan's underlings."

" _What?_ "

"Terrible," Reno commented, his expression wolfish, "the lack of respect nephews have for their uncles these days." He glanced at Tseng. "Sons, for fathers."

"Exactly. I'm sure Don Barone will be devastated when he learns of your betrayal."

"But he – he and Chan cooked it up between them! They said it was time, with Genji being moved out. Before you lot tightened your grip. Wasn't my idea!"

"I think you'll find it _was_ ," said Reno.

Tony struggled, briefly, against the cuffs and the rope around his ankles, but, despite the way he wore the suit, Reno was a professional through and through, and Tony was going nowhere. He slumped in the seat, his face already deathly. "What are you going to do with me?" he whispered.

"We got a few questions about your uncle's business," Reno told him. "And then we're gonna take care of you. Just like you said."

x

Back in the office, Reno leaned against Tseng's desk and asked, "Taking out his nephew gonna be enough to keep Barone off Corneo's back?"

"I think so," Tseng replied. "Evens the score."

"I put out feelers with Corneo's guy, Trig," said Reno, and Tseng was struck, not for the first time, by the surprising gap between his subordinate's seemingly casual attitude and the scope of his ambition. Reno sensed Tseng's internal pause, and smiled. "Subject to Veld's approval, yo."

"Naturally." Tseng considered. "Trig can shoot. What else?"

"He's quick. Has self-control. Brave - could've bailed when he got bit, but he told me to finish the mission. He's bored workin' for a boss who's not as smart as he is."

"It's a risk," said Tseng. "These gangsters are so used to everything being about power play that they can find it hard to integrate. But you say he's the best shot you've ever seen?"

Reno nodded. "Maybe even better'n you."

"Hmm. And he keeps his head. All right. I'll back your recommendation."

"Thanks, Boss."

"You think he'll take the bait?"

Reno gave a low laugh. "Yeah, I think he'll bite. I give him two weeks."

It was three weeks to the day that Reno received the call from Trig.

"I was beginning to think he might turn us down," Tseng said, when Reno gave him the news.

"Nah. Props to the guy for holding out this long, though," Reno replied. "But I knew he'd join up."

"What made you so sure?"

"Told him he could wear the suit how he wants, for starters."

Tseng rolled his eyes. "Another one who can't tie a tie. Just what we need."

"Yeah, yeah," said Reno, unconcerned. "You know that you and Veld like some of us to look like we belong underside. Anyway, he was gonna come to us, whatever. He wants a challenge, and we're the best there is. ShinRa's the only gig in town worth crap, right?"

Tseng nodded.

Reno walked across the office to the window, and leaned against the glass, looking down at the hulking mass of the ShinRa tower, and out over the plate. He thought of the slums in the twilight shadow beneath, the sewers under them - Kimara bug queens, fighting to the death to defend their hideous nests. Reno smiled, without bitterness.

"You know it, man," he said softly, not turning back to look at Tseng. "ShinRa is the shit."


End file.
